Pretending
by Jacinda
Summary: Nick was always pretending to be something he wasn't, but he couldn't pinpoint when he became cold. Rating for mention of rape.


I have to pretend that it isn't her body that I've begun processing for DNA and fibers. Her eyes have fixated on a poster of the human musculoskeletal system that hung on the far wall of the exam room. She doesn't move when I scrape under her fingernails even though I know it hurt her. It must just hurt less than whatever is going on in her head.

Warrick and Catherine were investigating a suspicious drowning in a hotel pool. Dayshift refused to take cases once swing shift has clocked in. I was working on cold cases when Ecklie walked up to my workbench and asked me to go to the hospital for an evidence collection. There was a slight hitch in his voice when he briefly explained the circumstances the victim found herself in. Ecklie paused briefly before he said her name. I needed to pause briefly before I could realize what he said was reality. I was expecting Greg to rush into the room and proclaim this all to be a big joke.

The nurse said there was extensive bruising and lacerations in and around her genitals. The nurse pointed out two bite marks on her skin; I swabbed them and photographed them. She moved in my arms like wax. I could bend her and move her without minimal resistance. She stayed incredibly still. I had to check once or twice to make sure she was indeed still breathing. Now, I knew what they all felt each time I was confined to a hospital bed. I knew what it felt like to feel helpless; I couldn't undo what had already been done.

"She's not talking," I said as O'Reilly walked into the hospital room. His face turned white; he quickly turned around as if to compose himself. She didn't appear to notice that there was another person in the room. She lay in the last position I had put her in.

"Jesus," O'Reilly cursed as he walked closer to examine the bruises, black eyes, bite marks, abrasions, and shallow incision wounds, "What the hell did this to her?"

I knew his comments weren't directed to anyone in particular. I, too, wondered what could have possibly done this. It was savage and unnecessarily brutal. It appeared as though she had been tortured prior to and after being raped.

"I have the 911 tape," O'Reilly replied as he handed me a small manila envelope, "Sara, I need to you tell me who did this. I need you to tell me so I can go get him."

She didn't move. She didn't even blink; the vacant stare persisted as O'Reilly sat in a small chair next to the gurney. Sara's breathing became increasingly erratic, and her cardiac monitor began to beep and flash. I ran for a doctor. I ran out of the room partially because I couldn't look at her anymore. I felt sick as I watched two nurses and a too young looking doctor rush to her side.

"I'm going to kill him," Greg said as he walked up to the window where I watched the doctor inject something into Sara's IV line. He startled me.

"I'm going to kill whoever did this to her," Greg said again. His fists were clenched at his side.

His face was red. I'd never seen Greg so close to losing it. I had never seen docile, obedient Greg get himself worked up to the point where I believed he would kill whoever did this to Sara. He was just as fiercely protective of her as she was of him.

"She's going to need you to calm down," I said as I rested my hand on the younger CSI's shoulder.

"Screw you. I'm not going to pretend to be as cold as you are," Greg said. He turned away. I think he knew his words would hurt me, but it was far too late to stop them once they started.

Greg did not realize that he, too, had become cold. The loud music ceased to fill the lab; his hair was extremely tame by his standards. Greg didn't laugh anymore. He wore a serious face. I wondered if he thought his personality change was worth it; I wondered if he still wanted to be a CSI. Sometimes, I hated my job. Today, I hated my job.

"Greg, what happened?" Grissom asked as he approached us. His stride was longer and quicker than normal. I was disappointed that he didn't acknowledge me with anything more than a curious gaze.

"O'Reilly said something about someone forcing his way into her apartment. He wouldn't tell me much more than that," Greg replied in a voice that sounded much more detached than moments before.

"Is this your case?" Grissom asked me with a raised eyebrow.

"Ecklie asked me to take it," I replied. I didn't know exactly how to answer his question. I couldn't tell if he was relieved that I was taking the case, or if he thought someone else should step in.

"Find whoever did this," Grissom said.

"Are you the Sidle family?" the much too young looking doctor asked as he walked out into the hallway.

"We are," Greg said immediately.

"Come with me. CSI Stokes, you can finish your evidence collection, but don't upset Ms. Sidle," the doctor said as he led Greg and Grissom somewhere else.

"Sara, Greg and Grissom are here. They're going to take good care of you," O'Reilly said in the most soothing voice he could muster.

I should have been taking care of Sara. Sara had taken care of me more times that I could count. I stayed with her for a few days following the Nigel Crane incident. She was the only one that had a spare bedroom that wasn't filled with workout equipment, a drum set, or a shrine to all the different species of ants. Sara came over regularly to check on me after the grave incident. I called them incidents because then I didn't immediately remember how many times I came within inches of death. Sara had always been there, but I where was I now.

I was pretending to be a CSI, when what Sara really needed was a friend.

Maybe it was that I forgot to send her a Christmas card this year; maybe I had sided with Catherine one too many times. There were so many nights when I walked right passed her in the lab without saying much more than 'hi.' I couldn't pinpoint when I had become her colleague rather than her friend. Somewhere along the way my priorities got confused.

Loyalty. Catherine stressed it every shift, as if we were going out to battle. I wondered when her priorities changed. She barely talked to Grissom anymore. She didn't bother to ever talk to Greg or Sara. She single-handedly created a rift so enormous that I wasn't sure if it could ever be fixed. I pretended to be loyal to Catherine even though I didn't agree with her agenda.

Maybe I confused loyalty with friendship one too many times.

I watched her lay on the hospital gurney; she was too frightened to talk to anyone. I watched O'Reilly try to soothe her despite the fact that there was nothing he could do to make things better. I wondered why him . . . why not me.

I had been hurt so many times. I started to pretend to be brave and strong. The reality was that I had become terrified of the most benign things; I hated darkness. The mention of fire ants threw me into a panic attack. With my false bravery and strength came detachment. I didn't let myself care anymore. If I didn't let people in, they couldn't hurt me. I had become what Sara was trying desperately to undo in herself.

I pretended not to feel. Maybe that's when I became a CSI investigating a rape case rather than a friend.

Pretending gave me a false sense of security. Maybe I was afraid to feel for her because it would mean that I would begin to process everything that had happened to me.

I watched Greg, Grissom, and O'Reilly talk to her. I pretended to be a CSI.

_I'm so sorry, Sara, I thought as I managed to escape from all those feelings for another day._

_FIN_


End file.
